


move slow like daytime drama

by leighbot



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rimming, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5417498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s fascinating to Zayn that he’s lived on the earth over two decades and has spent the last four years having really awesome and eye-opening sex with a diverse group of people and he’s never once before considered rimming.</i><br/> <br/>Or, the one where Louis rims Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	move slow like daytime drama

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Capbuckyang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capbuckyang/gifts).



> I am so sorry you've had to wait this long for your story, Capbuckyang, and I hope you like it!
> 
> A million thanks to Tess for her wonderful beta and britpick, even though we disagree about what a pillow truly is.
> 
> Set vaguely during the WWA tour though never explicitly stated. Title from Taking Back Sunday.

“I mean… it isn’t exactly like eating out a chick, is it?” Niall is asking as he takes a pull from his beer.

The tips of his artificially blond hair are tickling at Zayn’s chin where they’re curled up together, but Zayn doesn’t move. Instead, he tightens his arm around Niall’s shoulders and turns his face away to breathe out a lungful of smoke as he passes the spliff back to Louis. He spares a thought to how good Louis looks, pleasantly buzzed and heavy-lidded, but he’s feeling mellow from the weed, shouldn’t even think about acting on it. Besides, Louis is usually useless for a shag when he’s been smoking.

“Nah,” Louis murmurs around the joint balanced between his lips.

Zayn doesn’t remember entirely what they’re all talking about, used to tuning everything out when he smokes, but he watches as Louis passes to the left. Liam’s a bit clumsier with it, already a couple of beers in and loosened up for the night, but he manages it just fine before passing it back to Zayn, Niall skipping his turn as usual.

“It’s better,” Louis adds, smoke curling from between his lips dramatically.

Lazy and pot-soft are really, really good looks on Louis, Zayn thinks. He’s also surprised Louis managed to hold it in for so long.

“What’s better?” Harry asks, coming back into the room with a packet of sour strawberry laces in his hand. One’s already hanging from his mouth. Zayn shifts then, one arm still loose behind Niall’s neck as the other makes a grabby motion for the sweets. He whoops when he pulls one out, working it between his teeth as Niall grabs one as well.

“Rimming is better than eating out a girl,” Louis says.

“What?” Zayn asks, the strawberry lace hanging from his mouth as Harry asks at the same time, “Giving or getting?”

Louis’ face has taken on a dreamy expression, like he’s picturing it right now, and Zayn barely focuses enough to pull another sweet out of the wrapper before Harry steals it back. Niall moves away, getting to his feet and heading into the next room.

“I don’t discriminate,” Louis shrugs, lounging back idly. The small, decorative cushions from the sofas in Harry and Niall’s suite are littered around the room, and he grabs one to shove behind his head.

“Is that the right word? Discriminate?” Liam muses, sneaking a second hit before passing it to Harry, who makes up for the rounds he missed and stubs it out when it’s almost too small to pinch.

“Don’t know. Doesn’t really matter t’me- I’m not so selfish I won’t give a bit back.”

“What are we talking about?” Zayn asks, sprawling out on his belly and resting his chin on his hands. Harry crawls over to him and shoves into his space. Harry rocks from side to side a bit, brushing against Zayn’s shoulder in a rhythm.

“Rim-ming,” Liam says slowly, giggling and turning red the way he always does when they smoke up.

“I know,” Zayn says, aware that the smile on his face is fond as he watches Liam. “I just- how did we get on this topic?”

“Niall’s never been rimmed,” Louis says simply, as if that’s a complete explanation.

“I don’t even remember how that got brought up,” Niall offers on his way back in, three fresh beers in hand. Zayn watches Louis accept his with a grin, tipping it back where he’s laying down. A trickle pools in the corner of his mouth and Zayn bites back a huff of irritation that he’s too far away to lick it off.

Well, that’s a weird thought.

Louis seems to somehow read his mind like always, winking at him as his tongue darts out to collect the drips. Niall grins as he passes Zayn his bottle, settling on the floor halfway between him and Louis, just out of reach of both of them. It serves to remind Zayn how far he is from Louis’ warmth, missing the way his compact body fits against Zayn like a puzzle piece. Harry’s right there, so he slides closer and gets him to stop rocking back and forth.

“What about you?” Niall asks.

“Me?” Zayn points his index finger at his cheek.

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, um,” he pauses, picking at the label on the glass bottle in front of him. “No, haven’t done that. Erm, either way.”

“So you’re the only one who has, Lou,” Liam laughs.

“I have,” Harry offers, voice rumbly and low from smoking up. “Hooked up with one of Grimmy’s friends and he was so hot for it. Offered to return the favour but I was so close just from the sounds he’d made.”

“Shit,” Zayn mutters, head feeling equally heavy from the weed and conversation.

“Zayn’s getting a bit affected, Lou,” Harry drawls, nudging Zayn with his shoulder and smirking when he gives him an unimpressed look, swaying to the side to avoid being nudged again.

“I am not.”

“Handle yo’ man,” Niall says in an exaggerated New York accent, giggling at the end.

“Look at the way he’s flushed, Lou. He’s gagging for it,” Harry insists.

Zayn rounds on Harry again, shoving at his shoulder hard enough he knocks to the other side.

“This conversation is how porns start,” Liam observes.

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks Liam, delighted. “You watch a lot of orgy porn?”

Liam stammers a denial around a laugh, face scarlet and smile wide. His eyes are hidden in the crease of his smile lines. Louis’ smirk is ineffective in hiding his flush, but he banters back and forth with Liam about the best kind of porn until Niall pipes up and asks them if they’ve ever heard of furries.

That’s Zayn’s cue to leave, then.

He shifts away from Harry so he won’t knock him when he scrambles to his hands and knees and then stands up. He’s steady on his feet, the pot dull in his system, and he knocks back the rest of his bottle as he heads into the kitchen area. There are bins in the corner for recyclables and he sets his bottle down with a _clink_ , washing his hands.

He isn’t surprised in the slightest to see Louis in the archway when he turns around.

“Heading out?” Louis asks.

“Think so, I’ve learned enough about everyone’s sex habits to last me a lifetime.”

“Maybe even a couple.”

Zayn smiles at him, leaning back against the worktop when Louis comes forward. He sets his own bottle down behind Zayn, the _thud_ it makes indicating it’s still half-full. Louis is close enough that Zayn can feel heat radiating from him. He lifts a hand to Louis’ waist, slid under his soft t-shit so he can palm his skin.

Somewhere between this tour and the last, the casual hooking up they’d done has grown roots and turned into something that neither of them has taken the time yet to define. Whatever it is, it has Zayn fitting his other hand to Louis’ jaw and tilting his face back for a kiss. It’s close-mouthed and sweet, their eyes shutting and lips pursing for more contact.

“I’m gonna stick around a little,” Louis says, pulling back and blinking his bright blue eyes open. “Heading back to the bus?” Zayn nods, leaning in for another press of their lips.

“You gonna join me later?” he asks when they finally break apart and Louis takes a step away.

“Might do. Might also crash with Liam and search his history- I think he’s got some interesting wanking habits I’d quite like to know about.”

Zayn frowns and pinches at the soft of Louis’ hip where his hand still rests. “You leave Liam alone.”

Louis giggles and smacks Zayn’s hand away. “You’re no fun, think of the blackmail material.”

“Don’t get into a blackmail war with Liam, he’s got a lot more dirt on you than you’ll ever get on him.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees with a mock frown. His face brightens up when he adds, “Not like he’d ever use it though. It really isn’t fun to win a game when you’re the only one playing.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. Louis’ a little shit the majority of the time, but he’s also one of the very best people Zayn’s ever known- a study in contradictions if there ever was one. Zayn pushes off of the worktop, crowding into Louis’ space and taking one last kiss. The hand he has on Louis’ hip slips to his bum. He pats it once in an almost-distracted fashion before he leaves, calling out a goodbye to the lads in the main area.

He knows he should call Preston and let him know he’s on his way down to the bus, but they’d been out on the balcony of their hotel rooms a couple of times throughout the night and there’d been no sign of fans having tracked them down yet. He pulls up the hood of his jumper- one that may have belonged to Niall at some point- and jogs across the parking lot.

Preston and Paddy are playing a card game in the front lounge when he comes in, both of them looking up. “Text me next time, Malik,” Preston says in a grunt, already focused back on his cards. Zayn smiles and promises to do so, heading back to his bunk and climbing in.

~*~

It takes forty-five minutes before he admits defeat. He isn’t falling asleep any time soon. Pot tends to keep him up, makes him relax and get sluggish but keeps his mind going even if it’s only at half speed. And all he can think about is the earlier conversation with the lads.

He’s far from a virgin- being in a world-famous boyband comes with plenty of drawbacks but never a lack of girls or boys willing to show them a good time- but he’s never even thought about rimming before. He thinks about the girls he’s been with, the ones that get really into it when he’s eating them out from behind, the ones who’ve let out groans when he’d give their taint a teasing lick. He feels his face heat as he pictures how he’d react to the same treatment, no stranger to feeling pressure there from Louis’ teasing hands.

He starts chubbing up in his pants when he pictures what it would be like to be rimmed, his hand slipping down over his trackies and palming himself distractedly. He can’t stop thinking about it but can still hear the low murmur of Preston’s voice and he is neither high nor horny enough to get himself off with their guards sitting right there.

It’s fascinating to Zayn that he’s lived on the earth over two decades and has spent the last four years having really awesome and eye-opening sex with a diverse group of people and he’s never once before considered rimming. He’s heard about it, of course, has seen it briefly in porn if he’s needed to pull up some quick wank material. It’s just that he’s never stopped to consider it much at all. And now it’s the only thing he can focus on.

He’s lost in his thoughts, hand still cupped around himself gently, when the curtain to his bunk pulls back and Louis climbs up and beside him.

“What’re you doing?” Zayn mumbles, heart beating fast from the brief surprise. He shuffles over so Louis can fit in neatly next to him, turning onto his side to face him.

“Nothing. What’re _you_ doing, all alone in your bunk? Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Liar, you love interrupting.”

“Only if there’s something in it for me,” Louis says, tucking his cold nose in the crook of Zayn’s neck and letting his hand drift down. He pushes Zayn’s fingers aside and feels him out.

“Ugh, ge’roff me,” he laughs when Louis leans in to lick a stripe up his cheek.

Louis giggles in his ear, nosing further into the space between Zayn’s shoulder and the pillow. His breath is warm through the hoodie Zayn still has on and his hand is cool where it slips under the hem to rest on Zayn’s warm side. Already, the heat from the extra body in the bunk is making sweat prickle at his temples. It’s nice, though, so he doesn’t shove Louis away just yet.

“Thinking about it?” Louis murmurs.

“Course,” he admits, has no reason to lie to Louis.

“Wanna try it out?”

“Not with an audience.”

“I sent them onto the other bus, we’re all alone. If you want.”

Zayn wants. Zayn wants so much he thinks he might have gone crazy with it if Louis hadn’t shown up. He’s fixated on it, slightly nervous it won’t live up to the hype he’s built in his own head. He pulls back from Louis just a bit, watching as he lifts his head up and looks at Zayn carefully.

Zayn nods.

Immediately, Louis smiles, bright and brilliant. He chuckles a bit, biting at his lip and looking at Zayn from under his eyelashes- a move he’s perfected, if Zayn’s being honest. “C’mon into the back lounge,” Louis coaxes, sliding gracefully out of the bunk and tugging at one of Zayn’s hands.

Zayn’s less graceful, himself, his feet hitting the floor hard. But then he’s following Louis into the back, close enough against him that he swears he can feel his heartbeat. He’s still mostly-soft but he’s pressed against Louis’ bum, Louis pushing back for a thrilling moment while they’re stopped to get the sliding door to the lounge open, and Zayn gets a hand in the back of Louis’ hair to scratch lightly at his scalp.

“You’re a menace,” Zayn scolds around a smile, letting Louis manhandle him down onto the sofa and crawl on top. His hands go to Louis’ arse immediately.

“Look who’s talking,” Louis shoots back, palms flat near the cushion where Zayn’s head rests, his fringe falling in his face.

Like this, Louis looks incredible, compact body hunched over Zayn’s and eyes looking dark in the dim light coming in through the blinds from the moon shining outside. He’s warm and gentle, rocking his hips lazily as he smiles down at him.

“You look like sin,” Louis says, leaning down for a kiss.

Zayn scoffs against his mouth, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip. _Look who’s talking_ , he wants to throw back but he gets a hand in the back of Louis’ hair again, keeping their mouths together as the tip of Louis’ tongue teases the seam of Zayn’s lips.

It should possibly take longer than it does to get him worked up, but Zayn’s always been ridiculously responsive with Louis. Their clothes end up on the floor. They’re soon panting through their kisses. Zayn’s quickly hitching his hips up as Louis’ grinds down until they find the perfect rhythm.

Then-

“Stop, hold on,” Louis says, scooting back until he’s straddling Zayn’s knees.

And it isn’t even that Zayn’s forgotten where they’re headed with this, but he’s suddenly being guided on all fours with Louis knelt behind him and he feels exposed and anxious. He sucks in deep breaths while Louis’ hands smooth down his back, reading the lines of tension in his shoulders like braille. His high is long gone and he’s wishing for another hit to take the edge off when Louis plasters his front to Zayn’s back, one hand on the cushion supporting his weight while the other wraps low around Zayn’s waist.

“We don’t have to do this.”

For all that Zayn knows Louis is mostly teasing- the smirk on his face is evident in his voice- he’s also sure that Louis means it. If Zayn wants to tap out, Louis will back off and let it go.

It’s enough for Zayn to take another breath, holding this one until he’s calm and releasing a slow exhale. He presses his bum back against the bulge in Louis’ pants. “We’re doing this,” he says.

He feels Louis’ smile when he kisses Zayn’s shoulder once before pulling away, the sound of his bare knees dragging against the sofa cushions as he scoots back a bit. Zayn has half a mind to look back but he doesn’t, just presses his forehead to one of the decorative pillows. He closes his eyes when Louis’ wandering hands reach his bum, palms pressing flat against his cheeks. He grinds his teeth when Louis spreads him, forming his hands into fists where they were previously digging into the cushions.

“Truly lovely,” Louis says, voice too reverent to be in jest.

Before Zayn can comment, though, dry, chapped lips are pressing a gentle kiss to the clench of his hole and it’s all Zayn can do to keep from forcing his thighs back together and pulling away. He wants this, he does; he just doesn’t know if he can go through with it.

As always, Louis is reading his mind.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispers, one hand leaving Zayn’s arse to trace along the insides of his thighs. It makes Zayn tremble a bit, his breath hitching. “I’m gonna take care of you,” Louis says, bringing his mouth closer and parting his lips so his tongue flickers teasingly along Zayn’s rim.

“Oh, fuck,” Zayn says before he can stop himself. It’s an alien feeling- closer to a tickle than anything- but the very thought that Louis is licking his arse keeps him from pulling away, needing to see it through.

His decision to stick it out is rewarded when Louis’ tongue presses against him again, wet and firm right where Zayn wants him. The hand that had been tracing the muscles in his thigh comes back to his arse, fingers pressing teasingly along Zayn’s perineum as his tongue continues licking lightly.

“Gonna do this for you every day,” Louis says softly, his breath brushing against where Zayn's so sensitive. “Going to wake you up like this and lick you out until you fall asleep again. I’m going to make you go crazy.”

“Nearly there,” Zayn assures him, resisting the urge to press his hips back as Louis continues to tease.

Instead of responding, possibly the first time Louis has ever resisted a sassy comeback, the grip on Zayn’s arse feels firmer as Louis spreads him again and licks wet and determinedly around his rim. One of Louis' fingers slips through the mess of spit, pressing gently until he's slipping it inside. Zayn hears himself keen, his back arching as he tries to chase the sensation when the finger slips out.

Louis _tuts_ at him and chuckles softly, biting teasingly at the meat of Zayn’s arse. “Patience,” he says, his voice deeper than usual and sounding already breathless. “I’ve got you,” he promises again. “Just let yourself relax.”

_I am relaxed_ , Zayn wants to say but Louis’ tongue is already licking along his rim and he chokes around the words. Instead, he bites out what might be Louis’ name and presses his chest further into the sofa. His knees spread to balance his weight and Louis takes both of his hands away from Zayn’s arse, one reaching forward across the panes of his back and the other resting on his calf. He trails his fingers along the skin there, circling Zayn’s ankle gently and then getting a firmer grip as his tongue stiffens and presses against his hole as if it wants to get inside.

“Can’t-” Zayn says inanely, not sure what he’s trying to get out. He just knows that it feels like Louis is trying to ruin him. He isn’t sure if he’s going to let that happen or fight against it.

“You can,” Louis encourages, pulling back the hand on Zayn’s shoulder. He slips two fingers through Zayn’s slick crease, gathering the traces of his own spit and pressing them inside insistently before leaning in and licking between them. His other hand is still circled around Zayn’s ankle, keeping him grounded as he takes him apart with each lick.

Zayn doesn’t know exactly how he thought tonight would go, but biting his own fist while Louis breeches him with his tongue is not what he’d planned on happening when the lads had gotten together for a night in with a few beers and some weed. When Louis isn’t pressing his tongue exactly where Zayn wants it, he’s biting teasingly on the flesh of his cheeks or his chin is scraping at his taint, the tease of Louis’ stubble making tears build in Zayn’s eyes. He doesn’t know whether he wants to pull away or press back, caught in the balance of pleasure and pain and more pleasure.

His cock- almost forgotten in the haze of it all- hangs heavy between his legs and he wants so desperately for Louis to touch him but he’s too distracted by the way he can feel his arsehole clenching for more. Zayn’s practically crying now, broken sobs around the fingers he’s shoved in his mouth to keep him quiet, drooling around the teeth marks he’s made in his skin as his eyes prick with unshed tears.

Louis is moaning like he’s starved for it, making noises only heard in the worst kinds of porn but it works, somehow. The genuine pleasure Louis is getting from eating Zayn out makes Zayn feel that much more desperate for it, shifting himself finally so he can rest his weight awkwardly on his shoulder and reach down to his cock. He fists it from base to tip a couple times before focusing on the head with his fingers.

“C’mon, Zayn,” Louis mutters against his skin, the stretch from his fingers enough that Zayn feels the tickle inside his body when Louis licks over him again.

His tongue feels like it’s a metre long, and Zayn grunts as he runs his thumb through his slit. He’s on edge, right there, and then Louis presses somehow closer, his chin digging for a moment into the sensitive skin below his hole, and Zayn’s coming into his hand and a bit on the sofa cushion below.

Louis keeps licking him through it, both hands now running along the backs of his thighs soothingly until the aftershocks are finished and Zayn slumps down, tucking his knees under his chest.

“Give me a minute and I’ll take care of you,” he mumbles, catching his breath. He stretches his neck, forehead flat to the cushion below as he rolls his shoulders as best he can in his curled up position.

“No need,” Louis assures him, the slick sounds of him wanking cutting through the now-quiet air.

Zayn looks over his shoulder. The sight of Louis up on his knees, jerking off while he licks at the swollen plump of his bottom lip as if he’s chasing the taste of Zayn’s arse, makes Zayn’s dick give a valiant twitch. It’s unlikely he’s going to be ready for another round anytime soon, or maybe not ever.

He contemplates reaching back and helping, reasons with himself that he would only have to shift over a bit to get a hand on Louis and only a slight bit more for his mouth. He’s about to offer, pretty sure Louis could do most of the work to make up for the boneless feeling Zayn has in him, when Louis sucks in a sharp breath and holds it for a beat too long, eyes half-closing and head falling back. Zayn can tell how close he is.

“Gonna come on me?” he asks, his voice slightly rough from the sounds he’d made and the exhaustion settling in his bones post-orgasm.

“Yeah.” Louis’ eyes are still on the ceiling.

“Gonna come on my arse?”

“Zayn, fuck-“ he says, looking down at him through his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Do it, Lou. Come on.”

Louis shushes him, closing his eyes again as he fists himself faster. His breath hitches- the high note of a gasp that is his surefire tell for when he’s about to come- and his blue eyes fly open as he comes into his own fist, keeping Zayn’s gaze the entire time.

Zayn smiles as Louis falls back on his arse and breaks eye contact. Louis runs the palm of his clean hand along his face as his fingers press his fringe back from his forehead. He looks up to see Zayn watching him and grins back.

“So, how was it?”

“Would’ve been better if you’d come on me like I’d told you to,” Zayn grumbles, shifting so he’s on his side and can look better at Louis where he’s perched on the other side of the sofa.

“I’ll smack you with this hand,” Louis says, holding up the messy one. “You hate when I make a mess on you. A little bit of tongue and you get desperate from some markings from me?” His words contain no heat, though, and he gets up after a moment and heads into the loo. Zayn hears the water running and sighs, deciding to get up and join him in order to rinse off his own come covered fingers.

“Shove over,” he tells Louis when he slips into the room.

They clean themselves up quickly, Louis making a mess with his toothpaste as usual before he presses a wet, minty kiss to Zayn’s cheek and leaves. Zayn rolls his eyes and wipes his face with a rag, tossing his own toothbrush into its water cup and following. He finds Louis in Zayn’s own bunk, thumbing the edges of the pictures he has taped up to the wall.

“You’ve got a lot of me up here,” Louis says without turning around, though he settles back into Zayn’s chest when he climbs in behind him.

“I’ve got two of you,” Zayn corrects gently, nosing at the back of Louis’ ear just to have another point of contact.

“Three,” Louis says, and Zayn looks up when he lifts his arm, pointing out a recent sketch. “You drew me like one of your French girls.”

Zayn laughs, tightening his grip and closing his eyes. “I drew you and Liam braiding Harry’s hair.”

“You’re declaring your love for me.”

“I’ll declare when I’m good and ready.” Zayn nips gently at the back of Louis’ shoulder, letting his weight settle a bit against Louis’ body as he feels the welcome tendrils of sleep tickling at the edges of his mind.

“Think you just did,” Louis says, but his voice is slow and heavy like he’s nodding off as well.

“S’your own fault it wasn’t more romantic then.”

Zayn thinks Louis giggles at that but he’s asleep before he can be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say [hello!](http://sa-voix.tumblr.com/)


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